


Long, Strange Trip

by Melisande



Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: Au!Au, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-04-22
Updated: 2007-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:35:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melisande/pseuds/Melisande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack is a proto-hippie, Ennis is an apprentice Hell's Angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long, Strange Trip

**Author's Note:**

> In 1964 Ken Kesey and a lot of his friends, who came to call themselves The Merry Pranksters, piled into an old yellow school bus, repainted with Day Glo designs and christened "Furthur", and drove across the country, getting high on LSD (acid), which was then newly discovered. They had fun and revelations along the way. They took along a lot of sound and vision equipment, intending to make a movie (which turned out to be wildly, surprise, out of focus and off center), and gradually The Movie became a metaphor for something or other: being in the groove, or, in another metaphor, On the Bus.
> 
> Fun fact: They stopped in Texas to visit Kesey's friend from Stanford, Larry McMurtry.
> 
> When they returned to California, they stayed for a while at Kesey's place in La Honda. Kesey had met some Hell's Angels through Hunter Thompson, and invited them to visit.
> 
> I know this because The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe was one of my favorite books when I was a teenager, and this story is based, in part, on it. I've put Jack Twist on the bus, and Ennis del Mar with the Hell's Angels.
> 
> None of the characters, real or fictional, is mine. Jack and Ennis belong to Annie Proulx, and most of the rest are some combination of real and Tom Wolfe's. I'm just having fun with them, and I hope you will, too.
> 
> Note: Straight used to mean, sometimes, not high, or someone who doesn't get high and never would.
> 
> The most possible thanks to Cathalin for betaing, hand-holding, and cheerleading. There couldn't be a better beta.
> 
> Warning: Drug use.

Jack had dropped acid about two hours ago, along with everyone else, ridden out the first rush, and now he was ready to groove. With the Hell's Angels! He knew a little bit about them, enough to know that they were bad, bad guys. He'd heard about them during his year at Berkeley. But Kesey had invited them, and Kesey was cool, as well as being the Chief, so it'd all be cool. The Angels would drop acid and get into the Movie. Or not - there were always some who weren't in the Movie. Just like there were some who weren't on the bus.

The bus was parked out in front of Kesey's place, Day Glo colors vibrating amidst the redwoods. Really vibrating - wow. It was like that _orange_ was playing music in his eyes. And the blue, the blue was really beautiful, the way it swirled in with the orange, and the orange swirled back.

Time passed. Maybe. It was hard to tell; his sense of time was wasted. But what was time, really? Was time _now_? Wait, was it _now_? Or was it then? Was it all the same?

"What time is it?" he asked, just to be saying something, because time didn't even really exist. It was like people wore it on their wrists, like it mattered, and it did matter to the shiny black shoe crowd, but they were so not in the moment, but then was the moment time? Was it all now? He thought someone had said something like that, and whoever it was, he'd been right. It was all now.

"Noon," Zonker said.

Huh? Oh, right, he'd asked what time it was. "Thanks."

"They should be here soon," a girl offered. One of the visitors, down from Berkeley. Jack didn't know her name. There were always girls around. They flocked to Kesey and Hagen.

"I need to get into the booth," Zonker added, and walked away towards his treehouse, which also served as the broadcast booth.

"Is anyone feeling, like, a, vibe?" Gretch asked. "I can feel it. It's big."

There was always a vibe, and when they were on acid, more, but, yeah, Jack was feeling something special, something more.

"I feel it," he said. He felt it some more, examined it. It felt scary, but good at the same time. It was like he was waiting for something, well, he _was_ , waiting for the Angels and for the party to start, but his whole body was vibrating. It was different from the way he usually felt when he was high, though that whole nerve endings exposed thing was there, and the usual noticing the way the world glowed - he looked towards the redwoods and spotted his tent, pitched haphazardly next to a huge trunk. It looked crooked. But his tent didn't have to be straight, did it? Straights wore shiny black FBI shoes, and his tent wasn't ever going to wear shiny black shoes.

"It's them," Hassler said. "It's their bikes."

And, yeah, that's what it was, that whole feeling that something was about to happen. It _was_. It was a pack of Angels in running formation, coming over the mountain on their Harleys.

"Yeah!" Now that he knew what it was, he could really get into it. When he stilled himself, never an easy task and almost hopeless when he was high, he could feel the subtle vibration, not a metaphorical vibration, but what was a metaphor, anyway? Another way of looking at things, and maybe a truer way, it wasn't like it was really different, it was all the same thing, wasn't it? It was all -

"I can hear them!" the girl announced. Or maybe it was another girl. And now Jack could hear them, too, the sound swirling in his head like the colors swirled on the bus, and getting louder, like the colors did sometimes. Like the purple and red stripes on his pants were doing right now, shimmying up his legs and back down again. Purple and red, meeting, separating, meeting again and twisting together, it was like the professor had said in his Humanities 101 class, it was all _related_ , it all connected to everything if you thought about it. Like his pants were related to his shirt, because they were both clothing, and on him, and the Hell's Angels were related to him because. Big, blank white space. Empty, though filled with swirls at the same time, because two different things could exist on the same plane, an infinite number could.

But, wait, what had he been thinking about? It was really important, he knew that. It was gone, though. Maybe it'd come around again, maybe not. Right now, the sound of the motorcyles was growing in his head, and Zonker had started blasting out Bob Dylan, heeeeeeyyyy Mister tambourine man, and one of the girls was grabbing his arm, like they did sometimes, and that was cool, he liked chicks, and he liked it that they liked him, but this one was kind of, like, looking at him like he was god, and they did that sometimes, too, but he wasn't god, maybe Kesey was god, or a god, because there might be a lot of them, like that guy had said, the New York poet guy, who'd been chanting and playing little finger symbols and Jack had dug it, but of course he'd been high as a kite, they'd all been, and things looked different once you came down.

But it was going to be a long time before Jack came down. That was the thing with acid, it lasted a really long time. You did it, and you were kind of stuck with it for 12 hours or so, even if you didn't want to be. Not that he didn't want to be, because it was really beautiful, like the redwoods were beautiful, like the mountain was beautiful, and like the couple of dozen motorcyles that had just come into view were beautiful.

"It's them!" the girl said, still clutching his arm, which felt like it wasn't part of his body now, like it was some unrelated _thing_. He looked down at it. It was tan, and wasn't it interesting the way skin could change color like that? Just expose it to sunlight, and it transformed, like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, or like photosynthesis, almost. Like the way everything interacted. His arm was wrapped with little white hands, soft little hands, which looked kind of weird against his tan, hairy arm. They looked wrong somehow, and he felt bad feelings coming on, so he disengaged himself, gently, before he could get on a negative trip, and stood up.

"I have to take a piss," he announced, because he did, maybe - he wasn't too in touch with his body, he was all head right now. He really just needed a minute alone, which didn't happen much around here, and usually he loved being with people, and especially with these people, but - yeah, and he did need to piss. He walked away into the woods, because there were only two bathrooms, and he'd already gotten enough flak about all the time he spent in there. But a guy had to shower, right? Well, maybe not, judging by some of the guys around here, but Jack needed to, and that was just the way it was. He could piss in the woods, though, so he did, and it felt really good. He made a little swirl at the end and laughed at himself.

Then he went back to the crowd in front of the house waiting for the Angels. The roaring of the motorcycles was so loud now that no one was trying to talk, except Mountain Girl, who had a voice that could overcome the apocalypse, let alone a few Harleys. She was just being Mountain Girl, so Jack didn't pay any attention, and then the Angels were there, pulling up and stopping like they'd rehearsed it, one after another. Jack sensed that the other Pranksters were as freaked as he was by the reality of this whole thing. Shit.

The Angels looked like bad guys, all big boots and sleeveless denim vests and tattoos and man, were they _ugly_. Too fat or too thin, greasy hair, dirty clothes, and scary ugly faces, and so many of them, all looking menacing. Jack looked around at his friends, wanting to focus on something other than their ugly guests, who were kind of freaking him out, or threatening to, and that was the thing about these guys, they were threatening. Just the way they got off their Harleys, the way they stood there, staring at the Pranksters, who were staring back, wide-eyed, and it started to feel like a bad scene until Kesey came out of the house and walked up to one of the Angels. They shook hands and slapped each other on the shoulder, and then Kesey was surrounded by Angels for a minute. Mountain Girl yelled, "Yeah!" at the top of her lungs, which surprised a few Angels, judging by the way they jumped, and Kesey led the way to the kegs that were set up.

The party was on. Jack watched Kesey as he passed out hits to the Angels, and it all seemed cool, so he allowed himself to look at individual Angels as individuals, because that's what they were, right? They weren't monsters from hell, they were just guys. Ugly guys. But everyone was beautiful, right? On the inside? Maybe when he got to know them he'd see that, but right now, yuck. He felt a little desperate as he looked from Angel to Angel, each one hairier and dirtier and grosser than the last, until he looked back to where the motorcycles huddled together and there.

A guy, young, probably younger than Jack, even, long and lanky and not ugly, not at all. Jack's feeling of desperation floated off on the breeze as he looked at the guy, who was just standing there, leaning against his motorcycle, staring down at his boots. They _were_ cool boots, real motorcycle boots, but the guy seemed to find them fascinating, but that was cool, because it meant he could look his fill at this guy, and sometimes Jack had the feeling that he stared a little too much, because he'd gotten some looks, but he didn't think he'd ever get enough of staring at this guy. Blondish brown hair, slightly curly, pulled back into a loose ponytail, long arms, hiding under long sleeves, snaking out of his denim vest, and whoa, a tattoo on his wrist! That was hard core, but this guy didn't look hard core, he looked - at his boots, which shuffled a little. Jack's eyes travelled up long, denim legs, up a denim torso, and he felt one of those acid grins growing on his face, the kind you couldn't contain, the kind that felt like your face was going to split with the sheer joy of it all, though he didn't really know what he was grinning about this time, but he felt it, all the same.

The guy glanced up, quickly lowered his head, and Jack had a flash - the guy was shy. Shit, a shy Hell's Angel? They ate babies, okay, not really, probably, but still, he was having trouble with the concept. But here was the guy, hunching a little now, staring at his boots, and Jack could feel the shyness vibes coming off him, could almost see them, and even though Jack was about as far from shy as a person could get, he felt it, anyway, and it wasn't good, and he wanted the long guy to feel good, wanted it like it was the most important thing in the world, so he stood up and waited for the colors to settle. His eyes went to Long Guy again, and got stuck there. That happened sometimes when you were high, your eyes got stuck on something, like maybe a ring, or a bug, or a t-shirt, or a guy leaning against his motorcycle who was raising his head to look around and looking right at you all of a sudden. Jack felt the acid rush just as his eyes met the guy's, and his eyes were so brown, brown didn't begin to describe it, they were like chocolate, maybe, or like a river in summer, and the guy was looking down again, and, shit, Jack remembered that he was going to walk over there, across a distance that suddenly seemed really big, and do something to make this guy feel welcome, because he certainly was. His legs in their happy red and purple stripes decided to move and he felt the grin again as he moved forward.

"Hey," he said, having crossed the distance. He held out his hand, an old good manners habit his mom had drilled into him; they kept popping up at the weirdest times. "Jack Twist," he added as Long Guy just stood there, looking down at Jack's extended hand, and it was starting to feel a little weird until the guy took his hand, shook it fast, and said,

"Ennis. Del Mar."

Jack's hand was on fire, and the heat was travelling up his arm and down his body, and he'd never felt anything like it. It was like he was plugged into something, something that - wait, though, he remembered he'd been thinking something, oh, what about the guy, whose hand he was still holding? He made himself let go, even though his hand didn't want to, but it had probably been long enough that he'd held the guy's hand, by normal time. Not that he really had any idea of time, he felt as if he'd been holding that big, warm, slightly rough hand forever, like in another lifetime, and some people said that could happen, though Jack wasn't so sure of that, but -

"You okay?" the guy, no _Ennis_ asked. Ennis. He loved that name. That nnnnnnn. Like music.

"Ennis," he said, just to hear it again.

"Yeah, Ennis. You okay?"

And, god, that voice. Like chocolate poured over rocks, like velvet on sand, like something Jack wanted to hear forever. How could he get more of it? He wanted more. He looked up at Ennis and heard the echo of a question. Oh, the guy was asking if he was okay! He was beyond okay, he was tripping and moving into a space he hadn't even known existed, and he wanted to tell Ennis all about it, but Ennis was worried about him, which made Jack feel warm all over, the parts that weren't already on fire, but why? Was he not maintaining? Well, no, but around here he didn't have to, but Ennis was a guest, and he should make him comfortable.

"I'm fine," Jack said, feeling the grin again. "I'm fantastic. You want to wash up?" And there was Mom again, and the guy was staring at him like he was a freak, which he was, of course, but not because he had some kind of automatic reaction to guests, and he was about to say something, what, he didn't know, when Ennis said,

"Yeah. Be nice." And Jack knew right then that hearing more of that rolling on leaves voice was going to take a effort on his part, an effort he was more than willing to make, because that voice did something to him, something good, a little scary, like a rollercoaster, but with the sure knowledge that at the end you'd get cotton candy and a big shiny prize. And it seemed like it was his turn now. Shit, sometimes being high was just a pain in the ass when you had to deal, and right now he had something to deal with, and it seemed in a way as if it should be easy, and what was it? He looked up, damn Ennis was tall, oh yeah, it was Ennis, and he met those chocolate eyes, matching the voice, and his body felt like melting chocolate, and something stepped up from inside him, some part able to deal, and said,

"Over here," and Jack headed for the house. Ennis caught up with him and they walked together.

"Hey, Ennis!" And, wow, that was loud. An Angel, out in the group around Kesey, yelling. Another long guy. "Come and get some!"

"Later!" Ennis yelled back.

And that seemed to be the end of that conversation. Jack waited for a minute or an hour, but Ennis didn't say any more, so Jack continued towards the house, tugging Ennis behind him. When they got there, he pointed Ennis towards the bathroom, then stretched out on the living room floor. He needed some grounding, because this trip was taking a new direction. He knew this floor, he'd been on it more than once. He liked it, the way the rugs merged into the floor, the softness of the rug, the solidity of the floor, it was really something to enjoy, the way it didn't move. He closed his eyes because the way the edges of everything sort of glistened was annoying, and he didn't like the pulsing, either.

Of course, now he was seeing movies on the backs of his eyelids, but maybe he could relax a little. He'd never felt so revved up, and that was saying something. He hadn't even taken that much acid, but for some reason he felt like the high was pulsing through his body, so intense he almost felt sick, and there was a thought not to have. He concentrated on the feeling, trying to analyze it. Well, he was high, and while you never knew what a particular trip was going to be, you could count on your body feeling a little weird, which Jack had always thought was because acid was such a head trip the body was being neglected. It was just sort of a vehicle for your head.

He thought about his body and wriggled around on the rug. It felt weird, like it was waiting for something, like he'd felt earlier. He still felt like something was about to happen, and it wasn't a comfortable feeling, not that it was bad, because it wasn't, but it was, like, on the edge. He could almost sense what it was, but when he thought about it, it disappeared. It was something good, though, he was sure of that. He tried to relax again, lying still, then felt something and opened his eyes to see Ennis looking down at him, his face blank, his mouth open a little. Jack grinned, so happy to see him it was like the sun coming up just for him, and got a little smile in return.

"You okay?" Ennis asked. He was damp around the edges, and looked shiny.

"I'm fine!" Jack said, stretching again, trying to work out those tingles that were travelling up and down his body. "Why do you keep asking me that?"

"I dunno," Ennis said, his eyes travelling up and down Jack. "Because you're lying flat on your back?"

"I like it," Jack said. "You should try it." He flung his arms out to the side and grinned some more. His face probably hurt.

"You're crazy," Ennis said, a little smile on his face saying it wasn't a bad thing, and held out a hand to help Jack up. Jack took it and stood, wobbling a little, maybe, when he was upright. It was so hard to tell what was wobbling when you were high, and usually, nothing really was, it just _seemed_ like it was, but no one else noticed. This time, though, it might have been real, because Ennis put a warm hand on his shoulder, and Jack could tell that Ennis wanted to ask again if he was okay, and that Ennis was worried about him, and he didn't want Ennis to be worried, so he dug into his maintaining skills to ask,

"Are you hungry?" Because all of his maintaining skills came from Mom.

"Nah," Ennis said, taking his hand off Jack's shoulder, which felt lost without it. "Thanks, though."

"You're welcome," Jack replied automatically. He thought Ennis should eat. He was skinny. Not _too_ skinny, but almost. Jack could see his hipbones, sharp through his worn jeans, and he bet if he took that vest off he'd see ribs showing. But not too skinny, not at all.

"Um," Ennis said, and Jack realized he'd been staring, probably for a long time. Shit. It was that eyes getting stuck thing, and his eyes kept getting stuck on Ennis. He thought about explaining, but knew from experience that something that made perfect sense in his head sometimes didn't when it came out his mouth. He was staring at Ennis's face, which looked a little shy and a little amused. "You're really high, aren't you?" he asked Jack, and he nodded, unable to speak for once in his life. Acid did the weirdest things to you sometimes. Ennis didn't say anything, either, and they just stood there for a while, looking at each other, until it occurred to Jack that Ennis _wasn't_ high, and that while Jack was totally into tracing the bones of Ennis's face with his eyes, Ennis was probably thinking what a weirdo he was.

"Want a beer?" he asked, because that was always a safe thing to say, and besides, Ennis couldn't possibly be legal, so beer might be a thrill for him, then he remembered that Ennis was a Hell's Angel, and that nothing Jack could give him would be a thrill. But he looked so young, just a kid, really, maybe Jack could impress him somehow, though being high as a kite and oddly unable to talk wasn't a good way to begin, but there it was. He was stuck being high even though he kind of didn't want to be right now. Edges were giving off vapors, the pattern in the rug was really bugging him, the way it kept moving around, and -

"Sure," Ennis said. Jack had no idea what he meant until Ennis smiled, no big acid grin, just a corner of his mouth curling up, but Jack saw it. "A beer, Jack. Let's have a beer."

Oh, yeah! Right. "Yeah!" He turned and led the way out of the house and into the keg clearing, where there were about a hundred ugly, but no longer menacing, Angels, drinking beer and laughing big belly laughs, Haw! Haw! Haw! and some of them had the beginnings of acid zonk smiles on their faces, which was pretty funny to see. They were okay guys, after all.

"Hey, En," and here was the long guy that had yelled at Ennis earlier. Close up, Jack could see he was obviously Ennis's older brother, not as handsome, but similar in the jawline and coloring and longness. "You cool?" and the brother's pupils were way dilated, and he was gleaming, and yeah. "You made a friend?" and he turned a grin on Jack.

"Yeah," Ennis said, "this is Jack Twist. Jack, my brother, KE." Jack held out his hand, of course, KE shook it, and then some Angel or other pulled at KE, who said,

"You boys have fun together," and went away, which was fine with Jack, because even though he was happy to have met Ennis's brother, and it would be interesting to compare their features sometime, to figure out why features so similar could, taken together, be so different, maybe it was something in the expression? Or the eyes, that was it, KE's eyes were just plain brown, they didn't have the depths that Ennis's did. Or was it the way they moved?

"Jack," Ennis said, and oh, maybe it was the voice, KE didn't sound like that, like molasses slipping over gravel, like - "Beer, Jack," Ennis said, tugging him to the kegs, where they filled up big paper cups. Jack downed his in two long chugs, knowing from experience that it'd bring him down a little, and he didn't want to be quite so high right now, because Ennis wasn't.

"Hey, you want some acid?" he asked, realizing again that Ennis wasn't high and that therefore Jack looked like a loony.

"Beer's fine," Ennis said, and, drinking his cup down in one go, his long throat working, went back for a refill. "You?" he asked, holding out his hand for Jack's cup.

"Thanks," Jack said when Ennis handed it back, full. "Hey, how old are you?" and then, because that kind of echoed like a father, "I'm nineteen."

"Seventeen," Ennis said.

. . .

Ennis had figured that Jack was probably a little older than he was, even though in a lot of ways Jack seemed like a big kid. The way he smiled, so open, the way he was fascinated by little things, like now, he was staring at his beer, probably watching the bubbles. Of course, he was wasted, Ennis could see that, and he wondered what he was like when he was straight. He was guessing not much different. Probably his eyes weren't quite so big, probably they didn't take up half his face, and maybe he didn't smile as much, though Ennis wouldn't put money on that. The smile looked so natural on Jack's face, and so good. Realizing that he was staring, he quickly looked down at his own beer. Jack would think he was weird, staring, and definitely not cool. Ennis had thought that he was getting cool, with his boots and his tattoos, but now he thought maybe he wasn't. He couldn't picture himself in red and purple striped pants, tight pants, though he did have a couple of tank tops like the one Jack was wearing. His were plain white, though, not purple, and he didn't look anywhere near as good as Jack did in them. Jack was tan, golden tan, unlike Ennis, who was pink from the sun, though he'd tan later, and Jack's arms were. . . he peeked at them, to remind himself. Strong and brown and Ennis wished he looked like that. He did like his tattoos, though.

"You seem older," Jack said, like people always did. Ennis figured it was because he was quiet. When you talked, you gave things away. When you were quiet, those things stayed yours. "You seem so, kind of, contained," Jack continued. Ennis was glad Jack was talking again. Someone had to, and Jack was good at it. "Like you have an inner wisdom. Like the Buddha, maybe. A calm, like you're a quiet, blue lake, a deep lake, where you don't know what's going on underneath, but you know it's good. Like you want to dive into that lake, and swim around, and feel it all over you. You know?"

Ennis nodded, though he didn't know. He did know that nodding would keep the flow going. And sure enough,

"Or maybe it's not that, maybe it's just because you're so tall, I mean, I'm not short, and my father is a lot shorter than I am, but somehow you being tall, it makes you seem older. It's interesting, height, it's not something we control, it's just genetics, something that happened to you, and you just have to go with the flow, but - " Jack paused for a second. Ennis waited to hear what he'd say next. "How tall are you?"

"Six three," Ennis answered, glad that Jack had asked an easy question. Glad that it made it seem like he was contributing something. "You?"

"Six even," Jack said, looking up at Ennis. Ennis stood up a little straighter.

"Jack!" Someone yelling, even though she was right there. "Come on, come talk to us!" A girl, holding onto Jack's arm. "You, too!" she added, looking at Ennis. He looked down at his boots. Now Jack would join his crowd, and Ennis could tag along, and hang out on the edge, and be uncomfortable and out of place. He could see it. He should probably say no, but he wanted to hear Jack talk some more. He finished his beer and got ready to join a crowd. He'd get a refill first.

"Later," Jack said, a smile on his face that must have lit up the girl's world. "I'll see you later."

"Okay," the girl said, with a big pout that was supposed to be funny, but she meant it. "Later," she said, and finally let go of Jack and left. He wondered if she was Jack's girlfriend. He hoped not. He didn't like her much. He was really glad she'd left.

"Your girl?" he asked, surprising himself. He wanted to know.

"Nah," Jack said. "I don't have a girl." Good. That meant that he could hang out with Jack. "You want another beer? Do you have a girl?" Jack was looking up at him with those huge blue eyes, looking like it really mattered to him if Ennis had a girl. Ennis wished he could say yes, so that Jack would think he was cool, but the fact was, Ennis didn't. He could have, but it hadn't worked out with him and Karen, and he'd finally broken up with her before he left for the summer. It just wasn't right between them.

"No girl," he said, and gave his empty cup to Jack. Jack's face lit up, his smile so big it almost went all the way around his head, and jeez, Jack was high, but he wasn't falling over and he wasn't slurring and he wasn't trying to pick a fight. He was just smiling like Ennis was really important and like he really liked him. It made Ennis feel good, and made him smile back. He nudged Jack, who seemed to have forgotten about the beer. "Beer, Jack," he reminded him, and nudged him again, leaning into it, but careful not to knock Jack over.

"Oh, yeah!" Jack said, surprised. "Beer!" Like beer was the best thing ever. Ennis watched as Jack refilled their cups, in case he spilled them or just couldn't manage.

"Here!" Jack was back, handing Ennis a foaming cup like it was jewels or something. "You want to go someplace else?" Jack kind of twitched as he looked around, and Ennis knew exactly how he felt.

"Yeah. Somewhere quiet," he said. Nowhere with Jack was going to be quiet, but that was okay with Ennis.

"Yeah, quiet," Jack agreed, then looked down at his hands wrapped around his big, full cup. A line formed between his thick eyebrows, and Ennis wondered what he'd done to make Jack frown like that. He worried about it while Jack slowly moved the cup to one hand. Jack had big hands. They looked strong but still kind of, graceful, he guessed. Long fingers. He had time to look, because it took Jack a while, and he wasn't looking at Ennis. Long enough that Ennis realized that Jack was just concentrating on moving the cup.

"Drink some," he suggested, and demonstrated.

"Yeah!" Jack said, like Ennis was a genius, and chugged.

"Let's go," Ennis said, then, as Jack just stared, added, "Somewhere quiet?"

"Right!" Jack came back from wherever he'd been. "My tent?"

"Sure."

Jack took Ennis's arm and pulled him out of the clearing. They didn't make it out without a few people stopping Jack and wanting to talk to him, wanting him to come smoke a joint, wanting him to tell some story. Jack was popular, that was obvious, and it was obvious why. Ennis felt proud and surprised that each time, Jack made some excuse and kept tugging at him. Jack could be with anyone, but he wanted to be with Ennis for some reason. Maybe because he was a lake. Ennis smiled to himself as Jack pulled him along, out of the clearing and into the woods a couple of hundred yards, stopping in front of a tent that was leaning sideways. It was a fancy tent, with a zippered door and everything, set in a nice little clearing with a couple of logs out in front of the tent, like a living room.

"Ta daaaa!" Jack said, throwing both hands up in the air. "We made it!"

"Yeah," Ennis said, watching as Jack did a little dance He finished his dance with a few hops and gestured to a log. Ennis sat down, stretched out his legs, and waited to see what Jack would do next.

"Wait!" Jack said, like Ennis was going to leave, and, getting down on his hands and knees, went into the tent. He emerged a minute later with a bag of potato chips, which he handed to Ennis before sitting on the ground, leaning on a log, one arm spread out on it, a lighter, smoother brown against the bark.

"You live here?" Ennis asked, looking at the tent.

"Yeah," Jack said. He was a little out of breath from his dance. His chest was rising and falling fast and Ennis could hear him breathing. "For now."

"And later?" Ennis asked, curious.

"Don't know." Jack reached over and opened the potato chips, offering them to Ennis. He took one, because Jack seemed to want him to. "I took a year off from college, officially, but I don't know if I'm going back. I mean, I really liked some classes, and my mom really wants me to go back, and Berkeley is cool, but after this year, after everything that's happened, well, I don't know. There's so much more to life than classes, you know?" and Jack was looking at him like he really wanted Ennis's opinion. So he'd better have one.

He thought about it, eating potato chips while he did. It was something he'd been thinking about, luckily. He didn't want Jack to think he was dumb.

"Yeah, there is. More to life. I don't know if I'm going back to school, either."

"No?" Jack asked, leaning forward. "You're, what, a senior?"

Ennis handed a potato chip to Jack. "Will be. A senior." Maybe he wanted to be a senior. It sounded good.

"You have to finish high school!" Jack said, like it was the most important thing in the world. Then he looked at his potato chip like he didn't know what it was for. Then he got into the potato chip; Ennis saw the signs, and waited to hear Jack's philosophy of potato chips, or whatever was coming next.

"High school is like a potato chip," Jack declared, holding up the chip. "It's available to everyone, and people take it for granted and just chomp it down as if it doesn't mean anything, but in fact, it's the whole basis of a lot of things. Like onion dip, for example, where would onion dip be without potato chips?"

"Nowhere!" Ennis said, getting into the spirit.

"Right! You need to have the potato chip first, and then you can add whatever dip you want. Or, really, anything you want. Maybe you like chocolate syrup on your chips, maybe you like them soaked in beer, but without that chip, you're not going to get it. You know what I mean?"

Jack looked at him with that intense expression that demanded a response, and the thing was, Ennis did kind of know what he meant. It almost made sense, in its own way.

"Yeah," he said, "I do know. You need that chip, and then you can build on it."

"Yes!" Jack was delighted with that, and it made Ennis smile to have made him so happy, even though it was all because Jack was on that LSD stuff. He offered the bag of potato chips to Jack, who tossed aside the one he had, took another, and still didn't seem to know what to do with it. Ennis held a chip up to Jack's mouth.

"Potato chips are good, right?" he asked Jack, who seemed to have some doubts about that.

"Yeah," Jack said, and took the chip into his mouth, getting a bit of Ennis's fingers, too. "But I'm not hungry. Besides, there's no onion dip." Jack grinned at him and Ennis thought maybe he was making fun of himself, but he wasn't sure.

His fingers felt funny.

They spent the afternoon like that, Ennis eating chips, Jack talking away about everything from Greek philosophers to his mom's garden. He wandered all over, and some of it made no sense at all, but Ennis could tell that he was really smart when he wasn't wasted. Every now and then he'd ask Ennis a question, and after a while, Ennis found it easy to answer Jack, even when the question was something like "Do you believe in past lives?" He found himself telling Jack all about his current situation: spending the summer with his Hell's Angel brother while he tried to decide if he wanted to go back to school in September or join the Angels for good. KE wanted him to, but his sister most definitely didn't. KE said Ennis was a man, and it was his decision to make. Jack took this in, listening intently. When Ennis finished talking the most he'd probably ever done in one go, Jack leaned forward to ask,

"What do you want to do?"

That was the thing, Ennis didn't know! He told Jack that, a little irritated.

"Okay, right, let's examine it," Jack said. He'd just gotten up a good head of steam talking about the possibilities of each choice when KE showed up. KE was checking up on him, like he did. Jack would think that Ennis was a kid.

"Hi, Jack. You okay?" KE asked Ennis. "Want to go have dinner? Me and some of the guys are going into town."

"No, thanks," Ennis said, a little worried that KE shouldn't be driving, but he didn't say anything.

"Okay, see you later," KE said, and walked off.

"You hungry?" Jack asked, and Ennis realized that yes, he was hungry. It was like 8:00, and he hadn't had anything except potato chips since breakfast.

"Yeah," he said. "You want to go have dinner?"

"On your motorcycle?" Jack asked, as excited as a little kid. Jack thought the motorcycle was cool!

"Yeah," Ennis said, "Where shall we go?"

"There's a diner, hold on, let me get ready," and Jack was crawling into the tent again. Ennis watched him go and wondered what it was like in there. Maybe Jack would invite him in sometime.

"Let's go!" Jack said as he emerged from the tent. He'd put a shirt on and maybe done something with his hair. Jack's hair wasn't long, not like Ennis's. It was just long enough that you wanted to push it off his face. "C'mon!" And Jack was vibrating with his desire to have dinner, or maybe have a ride on a motorcycle. Ennis didn't know which, but it didn't matter. They could do both. They could do anything.

"Okay," Ennis said, and headed down.

Jack was silent, which seemed weird, when they reached Ennis's motorcycle and Ennis mounted. Jack just stood there, mouth open, eyes wide. Probably thinking about the universe. "Climb on," Ennis said, patting the seat behind him, and Jack clambered on, getting his foot tangled at first, but working it out, settling down, and putting his arms around Ennis's waist, lightly. "Lean into the curves, okay?" Ennis asked. He could just barely feel Jack's arms around him, but at the same time, that was all he felt. He sat for a minute, feeling a little dizzy - all that beer - pretending that he was doing something with his bike - Jack wouldn't know - then revved it up, loud, because Harleys were loud and because he knew Jack would like it, yelled, "Hang on tight!" and pulled out.

Ennis realized he didn't know where he was going, but he didn't much care. It was always fun to ride, and having Jack with him made it better. Jack was hanging on tight, as ordered, and he was pressed up against Ennis. Ennis knew that if he'd been able to look, he'd see a big, excited grin on Jack's face, and it made him grin a little, himself, to picture it. He speeded up, and Jack whooped in his ear and tightened his grip. After a long, fast ride, Ennis slowed down enough to ask, "Where are we going?"

"Dinner?" Jack said, right in Ennis's ear. It tickled or something. "Take the next left." Pretty soon, they were pulling into the parking lot of a little diner. Ennis looked around and didn't see any motorcycles. Good. He got off and turned to look at Jack, who'd dismounted with only a little trouble. His hair was standing on end - he had really thick hair, but it looked soft, too. Jack ran his hands through it, then headed for the door. Ennis followed.

"What are you going to have?" he asked Jack, looking up from his menu to see Jack looking nervous. "What's wrong?" he asked. Maybe Jack was afraid some of his cool friends would see him here with a kid. No, Jack wasn't like that. What, then?

"Nothing," Jack said unconvincingly. Ennis raised an eyebrow. Jack leaned across the table and whispered, "I'm high." Ennis nodded. This wasn't news. "It's weird to be around straight people when you're high," Jack explained.

"Oh!" Ennis got it. He looked around the diner, which was fairly full. "No one is looking at you," he said reassuringly. "Except me, of course."

"Really?" Jack asked, his eyes so big they should have a seat to themselves.

"Yes, really," Ennis said. "I'm really looking at you." He leaned over the table to confide, "I'm straight."

"Yeah, well, I'll have to do something about that," Jack said, relaxing. "You don't want to try acid?"

"Nah," Ennis said. "I don't want to get out of control like that." He though about it and added, "I don't want a drug controlling me, either."

Jack looked at him like he'd just explained the meaning of life, and he thought back on what he'd just said. It wasn't the meaning of life, but Jack seemed to have liked it. Ennis felt proud of himself, like he'd felt when he figured out how to change the oil, or when he'd gotten second place in the math competition.

"Wow," Jack said, but before he could continue, which Ennis knew he was going to do, the waitress was at their booth, order pad at the ready.

"You boys know what you want?" she asked, looking from Jack to him, smiling at Jack. She was pretty, and probably Jack's age, and he could see why she'd smile at Jack. Jack probably had girls all over him. In fact, he had, earlier. Ennis hoped that a bunch of girls weren't going to get in the way of him and Jack hanging out while Ennis was here.

"Cheeseburger," Ennis said, surprised to hear how loud he was.

"Okay," she said, making a quick note, "and for you?" She was looking at Jack again, but Jack looked over at Ennis, and Ennis saw that Jack was having that problem he had with straight people. And he probably hadn't thought about food, because he'd been too busy talking and thinking and listening. He thought quickly about what Jack might like, and ordered a bowl of soup and a side of toast. Jack couldn't play too much with that, and it seemed like he needed something soothing, like soup. This LSD stuff didn't really look that fun.

"Thanks," Jack whispered when she'd gone. "I'm coming down, but it's still weird."

Ennis nodded like he knew what Jack was talking about. As they ate, though, he saw what Jack meant. Jack was nowhere near as crazy and wild as he'd been earlier, now that Ennis thought about it. And he wasn't quite as talkative, though plenty of words were still coming out of him. He got kind of droopy after he finished his soup, but he perked up again when they went outside, and he hurried over to the bike and stood waiting. Ennis walked over, not hurrying, and got on. "C'mon," he said. Jack got behind him, and held on tight even thought they weren't moving yet. He leaned his head on Ennis's back and squeezed. It felt nice. Jack was warm and solid, and he liked Ennis enough that he was hugging him, because that's what it was, because they were just sitting here in the parking lot. Jack made a little noise, like a grunt, and shifted closer. And Ennis got a hard on. Shit, that was always happening at the worst times.

And Jack was still hugging him. He wished he could hug back. He liked Jack. A lot. It was a good thing he couldn't, though, because if they were face to face, Jack would know he was hard, and he'd die of embarrassment. Jack was a guy, though, so maybe he'd understand. Jack must get hard sometimes, too. Maybe not as often as Ennis did, because no one in the history of the world could ever have done that, but, still, he was a guy, and he had a dick. Suddenly Ennis's dick, which had been giving him enough trouble already, started throbbing. Oh, god, he had to jerk off right now. Right now, except Jack's head was still on his shoulder and Jack's arms, those strong arms that Ennis had envied earlier, were still around him. Jack was moving closer, which Ennis wouldn't have thought was even possible until it happened. He closed his eyes and leaned back into Jack's hard chest, and heard a little sound come out of his own mouth. That kind of woke him up. He had to jack off, he couldn't stand it and, god, he had to get them back to that place, had to say good-bye to Jack, had to find somewhere he could do it.

He started up, pulled out, and probably broke a speed record getting them back. The whole way Jack was plastered to his back, and nothing had ever felt so good.

"See you tomorrow?" Ennis asked when they'd gotten off and were standing together in front of the house. He sure hoped Jack wanted to hang out tomorrow. Jack had been on drugs today, so maybe it had just been a kind of dream for him. Maybe tomorrow it'd all be over.

"You want to?" Jack asked, looking kind of surprised, and really tired. Ennis wondered if he should walk Jack back to his tent.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Jack said, with a bit of that earlier grin. "You keep asking me that."

"Well, you make me wonder," Ennis said. Had they settled tomorrow?

"See you in the morning?" Jack asked.

Jack did want to see him again! He felt like jumping up and down, but just said, cool,

"Afternoon."

"Okay, right, we'll find each other," Jack said, then stood there, staring at him. He was obviously still high, and had probably forgotten where his tent was. Ennis took him by the shoulders, turned him around, and gave him a little push. Then he watched until Jack had reached his tent and crawled inside.

He went over to the motorcycles. Some of the Angels were sacked out there in their sleeping bags. Ennis unrolled his, got undressed, and lay down. He listened carefully. Everyone was snoring, so he reached down to take care of his aching dick.

After, he lay awake for a long time, looking at the moon.

Jack woke up feeling like shit and also like it was Christmas morning. He knew why he felt like shit - acid wasn't kind to the body - but why the anticipation? Ennis! he remembered, and jumped up, almost knocking the tent over.

 

He was going to spend the day with Ennis! Then more memories flooded back. Mainly the end of the night ones, when he'd practically humped Ennis right there on his motorcycle. He'd known, even as he was doing it, that he shouldn't, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. Sometimes that happened when you were high. And he'd been afraid that he'd disgusted Ennis, that Ennis wouldn't want to see him any more, but no, he did; he hadn't even noticed Jack rubbing his hard-on into that long, lanky body.

 

Just thinking of it was making him hard again. He'd been thinking lately that maybe those couple of times with his roommate Dan, when they'd jerked off together, and that one time they'd jerked each other off, hadn't been just because of the beer. Because those times had been better than all the times Jack had been with girls. Because he liked looking at guys. Because he thought about guys. And he was thinking about Ennis, with his melty eyes, his long legs, his shy smile, as took himself in hand with long, slow strokes. And Ennis's voice . . .

 

He cautioned himself to be cool as he jacked off again in the shower. He'd gotten lucky last night, with Ennis not noticing him. He'd have to be careful, or Ennis would freak out. Was there even a chance that Ennis would be okay with them jacking off together? He pictured that, Ennis's long hand around his long dick, and suddenly came with a yelp.

 

A few people were in the kitchen when he went there, Marge and Pancho and some others. Jack got himself some Cheerios and sat down. They were talking about last night, of course, and Jack had an urge to tell them all about Ennis, but he stifled it in Cheerios. It sounded like everyone else had had a really good night, too, and that the Angels would stay for another night at least and that it'd be another party night. He joined in the conversation, but his thoughts were elsewhere, and he hurried through breakfast and back to his tent. He wondered what he and Ennis would do today, and when. Should he go find Ennis? Ennis had said afternoon, though, and Jack didn't think it was, yet. He busied himself neatening up his tent, which needed it, then went to sit outside. Maybe Ennis would want to go for a ride. That had been fun, the most fun Jack had had in, like, forever, and he'd had a lot of fun. He thought about it, his arms around Ennis, leaning up against his strong back, and Ennis making a little noise, like he'd done last night. Jack didn't know what the noise meant, whether it was protest or enjoyment or just something Ennis did, but for now he'd just imagine that it had been enjoyment. It was possible.

 

Maybe he and Ennis could go into town and get some food, bring it back home. He had a feeling Ennis wouldn't want to join in the communal brown rice and whatever dinner that was always served, more because of the communal than because of the rice. Ennis seemed like a loner, a guy who stood by himself and didn't need or want anyone else. Ennis had let Jack in a little bit, though, when he'd talked about high school and his sister and brother, and how they wanted different things for him. And how he didn't know what he wanted. Jack knew the feeling, but he had a strong opinion about what Ennis should do. He should finish high school. He'd probably been too emphatic about that yesterday, pushing Ennis, even when anyone could see that Ennis wasn't a guy you pushed. He'd have to be careful about that today, and tomorrow, if there was a tomorrow.

 

But today, first. What should they do? Jack figured Ennis wouldn't suggest anything, so it was up to him. He really wanted a ride again, so he'd just suggest that. And something else, so Ennis wouldn't feel obliged.

 

What time was it?

 

Was what he was wearing okay? He looked down at himself: red t-shirt, jeans, cowboy boots. Everyone wore boots, different kinds, but all boots. Even though it was a little hot for boots. Ennis had worn those really cool boots yesterday. Maybe Jack should get some like that. No, they were biker boots, and it'd be fake for him to wear them. Not that he was a cowboy, either, but that was different. Besides, he liked his boots. He'd gotten them in Texas when the Pranksters had been there on their bus trip across the country. He turned one foot on its side to admire the boot from another angle. The boots stayed. Jeans were a given, though maybe too boring? He had some flag pants - no, too flashy for Ennis. Jeans were good. And Jack liked red almost as much as he liked purple, so that was fine.

 

Was his hair okay? He ran his fingers through it and decided, yes, his hair was great. Ennis's hair had been soft against his cheek last night, and he'd wanted to bury his nose in Ennis's neck, but he'd managed not to. Much. And he was dying to take the rubber band off and see that soft, curly hair fly free, then bury his hands in it and . . .

 

Shit. He was getting hard again. You'd think he was 16.

 

And queer.

 

Was he? It was starting to look that way. It had been looking that way for a while, but he'd thought that maybe it was just loving everyone, hand-jobs with Dan notwithstanding. It could be that.

 

He didn't want to think about it. He wanted to lie here in the sun, lean back on his log, and think about Ennis, so he did that.

 

"Hey." A rumbly voice.

 

Jack looked up into Ennis's eyes, and it was so like the dream he'd been having that he was confused about whether he was awake or asleep. Ennis's eyes were a lot farther away than they'd been in the dream, though, so he realized he was awake, and it had been a dream. But Ennis was here! Nudging him awake with his boot and smiling down at him, that little, one-sided smile that Jack was starting to think was just for him.

 

"Ennis!" he said, feeling a big smile on his face. He was so damn happy to see Ennis, it was like the first rush, only better. Like that feeling that this was the beginning without the knowledge that the crash would come. And Ennis smiled back at him, then squatted down next to him. Jack struggled to sit up, drowsy with sun and sleep.

 

"You want to go get lunch?" Ennis asked. "I'm hungry."

 

"Sure!" Anything Ennis wanted, Jack wanted. And it had been a while since the Cheerios. Jack stood, shook himself of the last remnants of his dream, and held out a hand to help Ennis up. Warmth coursed through his body as Ennis grasped his hand, and he remembered last night, how he'd felt when they first shook hands. It had been different then, but the same. Even though Jack wasn't high, he still felt it. Did Ennis feel it? He didn't seem to be reacting the way Jack was, but he wasn't letting go of Jack's hand, either, as he hauled himself up. Then he let go, leaving Jack's hand empty.

 

Jack stood still, looking at Ennis. He knew what he wanted, now. Well, not exactly, not in detail, but he knew he wanted to be with Ennis, and he knew he didn't want any clothing to be involved. And he was afraid that thought was written all over his face, because people were always saying something or other was written on his face, so he looked away, towards his tent, while he said, "What do you feel like?"

 

"Um," Ennis said. Jack looked back at him, unable not to. Ennis was glorious in the sun, his hair shining, eyes deep and dark, and that long, sinewy body . . . "I feel like pancakes, I guess."

 

"Great!" Jack could get Ennis pancakes. Well, he could tell Ennis where they were and he could pay for them. Ennis would be doing the driving if Jack had anything to say about it. "They have these buttermilk ones at the diner, you'll love them, and there's real maple syrup."

 

"Okay."

 

"Okay."

 

Then they stood there for what seemed like a long time, as if they were stuck in maple syrup. Jack couldn't think of anything to say, which had to be a first, no, wait, that had happened last night, too. Maybe he was having an acid flashback. People talked about them, but no one he knew had ever experienced one. Which made him the first. Except this wasn't a flashback, this was Jack with a big crush on a guy and not knowing what to do next. Yeah, a crush on a guy, and it had happened before, so it wasn't like it was a huge surprise, but this was magnitudes different. This was making Jack weak in the knees, speechless and befuddled, and looking like an idiot. Which he was fairly used to, so he just bulled on through, hoping Ennis hadn't noticed the way he was staring at him.

 

"Your bike? Last night was really fun."

 

. . .

 

Yeah, it had been really fun. So much fun that Ennis had lain awake half the night reliving it, Jack's warmth against his back, Jack's strong arms around him, Jack's voice in his ear. He'd thought so much about Jack that he'd been afraid it'd be weird to see him, but it wasn't. It was just him and Jack, talking about what they wanted to do. And Jack wanted to ride with him. Pancakes sounded really good, too. Though he'd have to stop spending all this money in restaurants. He'd saved up for this, putting a third of his paycheck from the gas station in the bank for months, but it wouldn't last long at this rate. Maybe he and Jack could get some groceries. Maybe Jack had a camp stove or something in his tent. Or they could just live on chips and beer. And dip, of course. Ennis smiled, remembering Jack's funny talk last night about how chips were like high school.

 

"Or we could do something else," Jack said, pulling Ennis back into the present.

 

"Yeah, pancakes," Ennis said. "My bike. C'mon."

 

And Jack smiled as if Ennis had just handed him the moon. Jack really seemed to like riding. Which made sense, because Jack was a wild one, the kind of guy who'd do anything. Not like Ennis, who didn't like to do things he didn't know about. Except last night, he'd been thinking about things he didn't know about, and he'd been wanting to try them. A lot. He hoped Jack hadn't noticed the way Ennis couldn't stop staring at him, at his arms, all muscled and brown, at his long legs, looking better in jeans than in those nutty pants he'd had on yesterday, most of all at his face, his eyes, his mouth -

 

Shit. Something was going on with Ennis that he didn't know what to do with, and he hated that. Maybe Jack knew, though. Ennis didn't think Jack would have been hugging him like that last night if he didn't at least have an idea. But Jack was such a friendly guy, maybe it had just been that.

 

"C'mon," Ennis said again. He wanted to stop thinking and just get on his bike, with Jack behind him and holding tight. And he didn't want his dick to twitch at that thought, but it did, and maybe he'd better get used to it. And it felt kind of good, really.

 

"Okay," Jack said, "Yeah! And how about if we go to a store, get some food? For later?"

 

"Yeah, I was thinking the same," Ennis said, all kinds of relieved. And Jack gave him that smile again, so strong that Ennis had to turn away. He headed on down to the house, and Jack joined him, walking so fast Ennis had to hurry to keep up.

 

And Jack's arms around him was even better than he'd remembered, better than he'd imagined in the night. Because it was real. He speeded up as they went into a curve so Jack would have to hang on, and that was good, too. Ennis took the scenic route to the diner, lots of curves, yelling back to ask Jack for directions when he got lost. By the time they pulled into the parking lot (no bikes there - good), Ennis had a better idea about those feelings he'd been having last night. He still didn't know what they meant, and he didn't know if they made him queer, and he didn't know what to do about it all, but he did know that nothing, ever, had made him feel as good as he felt right now, and he liked the feeling.

 

When Jack had untangled himself from the bike, Ennis got off and they walked into the diner together. Ennis hoped that waitress chick wasn't here. He hadn't liked the way she looked at Jack.

 

A nice older lady brought them water, coffee, and menus, and Ennis leaned back in the booth, content. He looked at Jack, which was probably okay, because they were sitting across from each other. And Jack was looking at him, too, a crooked smile growing on his face. Before it reached the full grin, though, Jack turned to his menu, and asked Ennis if he wanted bacon or ham with his pancakes.

 

"My treat," he said.

 

Ennis almost said No, thanks, like he usually would, but he couldn't say no to Jack, who was looking so happy and eager to give Ennis a treat, so he just said, "Bacon." Then, late, he added, "Thanks. My turn next time."

 

"Sure!" Jack said, and looked around for the waitress, who was suddenly there like Jack was magic. "Pancakes for two, right?" Jack said, looking at Ennis to check. Ennis nodded. "Bacon, orange juice, fruit cocktail, and ham, too," Jack said. He spread his arms out. "Everything! For two. All of it. Extra syrup. How do you like your eggs?" he asked Ennis.

 

"Over easy."

 

"Me, too! Okay, two over easy for both of us. And toast." The waitress nodded, scribbling, then took their menus and left with a big smile.

 

"You hungry?" Ennis asked.

 

"Starving!" Jack said. "What should we get to take back?"

 

"Chips," Ennis answered, serious. "And dip."

 

Ennis saw a grin start, then Jack looked down at his paper placemat for a few seconds. He raised his head to say, "I was high last night, you know?"

 

"I know." Ennis had the feeling they'd already had this conversation.

 

"I'm not always like that, I mean, kind of, but -" Jack was tracing the map on his placemat with one finger. "I hope I didn't freak you out, or anything."

 

"No!" Ennis said, "you didn't freak me out. You were fun." And he had been, but Ennis thought he might like not-high Jack even better. If that was even possible.

 

"Cool!" Jack looked relieved, and Ennis started to think about why. Okay, Jack was worried about freaking Ennis out. Did he mean the part where he'd been hugging Ennis? Did he mean that he'd done it just because he was high? Or did he mean - what? Shit, Ennis didn't know what Jack meant, and he really wanted to. But if he asked, there was the danger of Jack figuring out what Ennis was thinking, and Ennis didn't want that. Not until he knew what Jack was thinking, anyway. He'd try to figure it out, and go from there.

 

Right then the waitress arrived, plates piled all the way up her arm. She dealt them out and said,

 

"Eggs and toast on the way."

 

Wow, did that smell good. Ennis hadn't realized how hungry he was until now. He poured syrup on his pancakes and bacon and tore in.

 

"You were right," he said after a while. "These are really good."

 

"I knew you'd like them," Jack said. He had strawberry jam at the corner of his mouth. "Hey, are you okay? You seem, I don't know …"

 

"I'm fine. This is great," Ennis said, and it was. He hadn't had a breakfast like this since Easter. It was just what Jack had said, about the drugs. But now he'd remembered that Jack had hugged him today, all the way here, and Jack was smiling at him as if he liked him. Ennis was confused, which he didn't like. He wanted to get on his bike and ride and let it all blow away. Except he didn't want that, because he wanted to be here, with Jack. "So, what shall we get at the store?"

 

"I don't know, bread, cheese, bologna? Pickles? Let's see what looks good. I have a bottle of vodka back at the tent."

 

"Okay," Ennis said, wondering about how much it would cost.

 

"And I'll buy some gas, too," Jack added, poking around in his fruit cocktail with his fork. "You've been doing all the driving so far."

 

"You have a car?" Ennis asked.

 

"Yeah," Jack said, "but I like your bike better."

 

"Well, yeah, but the car might be better next time we get groceries." Ennis heard that coming out of his mouth too late to stop it. He didn't even know where it came from, except he really liked the idea of grocery shopping with Jack.

 

"Are you staying?" Jack asked, his face so full of hope that Ennis's insides felt funny. Jack wanted him to stay!

 

"Don't know," Ennis said. He wanted to stay, but it depended on KE and the rest of the guys.

 

"Yeah, okay," Jack said. "We'll worry about later, later."

 

Ennis was cool with that, though normally he'd be worried about later right now. Something about now, though, was making him okay with not worrying. He just wanted to finish his breakfast, get on his bike with Jack, and ride. And get food for later.

 

"Okay," he said. "You done?" He wanted to go, now. Go somewhere. It was a familiar feeling.

 

"Yeah," Jack said, and did that magic thing again, bringing the waitress to their table, check in hand. Jack gave her some money, and then they were walking out the door together.

 

"Where are we going?" Ennis yelled back when they were already on the road.

 

"Left! Here!" Jack yelled in his ear, and Ennis turned, almost dumping the bike. They were in the parking lot of a Safeway.

 

. . .

 

"Shit! I think we lost a couple of things back there," Jack said as they pulled up in front of Kesey's house, pushing the Safeway bag around into Ennis's lap. "I hope it wasn't the orange juice."

 

After Jack had gotten off the bike, which he was getting better at, Ennis handed the bag to him and got off himself. He peered into the bag.

 

"Nope, it's still there."

 

"Good!" Jack said. "Let's go put in it all in the refrigerator. No, wait. Let's not, you don't know what might happen to it." Jack's eyebrows drew together. Ennis watched and waited.

 

"Let's put it in the ice chest. And make some ice."

 

"Okay," Ennis agreed.

 

"Hey, there you are!" KE was back. "En, we're going to stay here tonight. You cool with that?"

 

"Sure." Ennis thought about asking KE about tomorrow, and the next day, but KE wouldn't know, and besides, Ennis could make his own choices now, right? That was what this whole thing was about.

 

"Great. Come on, I want to have a beer with my little brother."

 

Shit, Ennis didn't want Jack to think of him as little, or young. KE was always doing that.

 

"Okay," he said, not having any choice. "Jack, I'll see you later, okay?"

 

"Okay," Jack said. "For dinner?" He bounced the groceries.

 

"Yeah." Ennis wished he and Jack could have dinner right now, or something, but KE was standing there waiting for him.

 

"Nice to see you again, KE," Jack said, and KE nodded, friendly, not badass.

 

This was probably the longest afternoon of Ennis's life. He didn't really like being around a lot of people anyway, one reason on his list of why not to join the Angels, and today he especially didn't want to be with a bunch of people. It was mostly Angels, talking about last night, drinking beer, gearing up for tonight. Ennis just wasn't interested in their last night, or their tonight. He had his own to think about, except they were all talking and he couldn't concentrate.

 

He wondered how he'd find Jack later. Well, he knew where his tent was. He wandered over, casual, to where he could see it. He didn't see Jack, though. Probably hanging out with his friends. Probably with that girl who wasn't his girlfriend, because he'd said he didn't have a girlfriend. Why not? Jack was so handsome, so smart, and he had such great arms. Any girl would be lucky to be with him.

 

"Little bro!" Great, the Buzzard wanted to talk to him. Ennis listened, and nodded, and kept on doing that, even though he was so twitchy inside he was ready to burst. He hadn't ever felt like this before, and it went on and on. But what else was he going to do? There wasn't anywhere to be alone here, and Jack had said dinner. Finally it seemed like maybe time for dinner. An early dinner. But he hadn't had lunch, and he was hungry.

 

He didn't want to be too early, though. And now that he thought about it, he really should take a shower. Because maybe he and Jack would go for a ride later, and maybe Jack would hug him, and Ennis wanted to smell good to Jack, like Jack smelled good to him.

 

By the time he got out of the shower, and completed a shave that wasn't all that needed, it seemed late enough. He'd hoped he and Jack would just run into each other, but Jack was nowhere to be seen. He'd have to go find him, so he started at the most logical place.

 

. . .

 

"Ennis!" Jack jumped up. Ennis was here! And Jack wasn't ready, but he didn't even care about that. "You're here!"

 

"Yeah," Ennis said. "Too early?"

 

"No! No, sit down, get comfortable." He pulled Ennis down to sit next to him against the log and turned to look at him. Ennis had changed, and was wearing his denim vest over a sleeveless white undershirt, and wow. Ennis had a lot more muscles than Jack would have guessed. Than he had guessed. Still his Long Guy, but now with long muscles, all the way up his arms, and probably down into his vest, but - stop. Stop that. Jack had been telling himself to stop all afternoon, ever since KE had taken Ennis away from him. He repeated the mantra he was working on. "You are very lucky he doesn't know what you're thinking, you are very lucky he's here, don't blow it." Okay, the mantra needed work, but it'd do for now. He repeated it to himself.

 

"I love your tattoos! What's this one about?" He outlined the raven tattoo on Ennis's bicep with the tip of his finger.

 

"It's an Indian thing," Ennis said. "Raven is a god, and a tricky one." He looked down at his Raven.

 

"Yeah? Tell me about him - no, wait, what's this one?" A little black square on Ennis's wrist.

 

"That one is - where's the cooler?"

 

Oh, shit, he was being a bad host. "In the tent. You want a screwdriver?" Ennis nodded and Jack dived into the tent. Once there, he took a minute to breathe, which it seemed like he hadn't done for a while. Ennis was here. Jack had been thinking about him all afternoon, and thinking about tonight, and suddenly it was now, and he didn't know what he wanted to do. Except, when he thought that, he knew he really did know. He didn't know what he should do. He didn't know if Ennis would even, was even - well, fuck it, here was the vodka. He'd just go with the flow. And maybe try to influence it a little. He made drinks.

 

Time passed. This time, Jack was sure of it, because he was waiting for the right time, and it never seemed to be it, and then he got into the conversation and then suddenly it was dark and he was kind of drunk, though not very. Not enough.

 

"It gets cold here at night," Ennis remarked into the silence that Jack had left.

 

"Yeah, it's" - Ennis was cold! "I'll get a blanket." He was halfway into the tent before the lightbulb went on in his brain. He turned around, knocking over the milk carton that he used as a table, and stuck his head out. "It's warmer in here."

 

"Yeah?" And Ennis crawled into the tent.

 

"This is nice," Ennis said, looking around. He turned up the lantern, turned the milk carton right side up, and put Jack's spiral notebooks and pens back on top. Then he fiddled with the pens, looking at them intently. He seemed uncomfortable.

 

"Here!" Jack said, pouring vodka into Ennis's cup. And, hey, Ennis was cold, so giving him a sweater was the logical thing, but putting more clothes on Ennis right now was just wrong. Jack never did have much use for logic. He'd almost flunked Philosophy 101 because of that.

 

"Thanks," Ennis said, and took a gulp, then another. "Okay if we sit on your bed?" He jerked his head towards the sleeping bag spread out over the double air mattress, looked at Jack for a second, and went back to the pens.

 

"Yeah!" It was so okay. Jack crawled over to the bed and stretched out, propped up on multiple pillows. "Let's get comfortable." He pulled his boots off, then his socks. Ennis was still sitting by the door, staring at him. Jack patted the pile of pillows next to him, saying nothing for fear of saying too much.

 

"We never ate," Ennis said as he settled next to Jack.

 

"Shit, you're right." Jack had forgotten about food, which was unusual, except when he was high. "You want to eat?"

 

"Maybe later," Ennis said, holding up the bottle of vodka. "You want some?"

 

"Sure," Jack held out his cup, then put it on the milk carton he used as a night table. "What's this one?" He asked, holding his finger above a tattoo on Ennis's long forearm. He was almost dizzy, feeling Ennis's warmth next to him, Ennis's length close to him, just breathing the same fucking air that Ennis was breathing. This might be enough - but he knew it wasn't. He lowered his finger to trace the tattoo.

 

Ennis shivered. Was he still cold? It seemed warm to Jack, and he was always the one wanting the heat turned up.

 

"Some poetry," Ennis mumbled.

 

Jack lifted Ennis's arm so he could read it. "In a minute there is time," he whispered. "That sounds familiar, but I don't remember - what's it from?"

 

"T.S. Eliot," Ennis said. "We read it in sophomore English." He didn't move his arm, so Jack dared to stroke the poem with his fingertip. Ennis's voice sounded even lower than usual. "I really like that poem."

 

"Oh, yeah!" Jack remembered now. "That's a sad poem."

 

"Maybe it is." Ennis sounded thoughtful. He ran a finger over the poem, running into Jack's finger.

 

. . .

 

When his finger met Jack's he felt like grabbing the whole hand, or - he didn't even know what, but Jack was driving him crazy, running his finger over Ennis's arm, over and over. His arm felt like it was shaking on the inside. In fact, his whole body felt like that, and melting at the same time. He'd felt it all evening, but now, lying next to Jack, almost touching him, it was overwhelming. He was glad he was lying down. "You think?" He wanted Jack to talk again. Hearing Jack talk made him feel good. Comfortable, and he wasn't comfortable right now. He was quivering and melting and hard.

 

"Well, I thought it was sad," Jack said, low, one finger still on Ennis's arm, but not on the tattoo anymore, just running all the way up to Ennis's shoulder and back down to his hand, and back up again. He kept doing that while he talked about poetry, and Ennis had wanted Jack to talk, and he liked the sound of his voice, but he couldn't really understand the words, because his brain was melting, too. He'd never felt anything like this, and he didn't know what to do with it. Maybe he should just leave. Then he wouldn't feel like this. He drew his arm back, but Jack clamped his hand around Ennis's upper arm and held it there, suspended. And feeling more than Jack's fingertip turned out to be exactly what Ennis's arm had been needing. What his whole body was needing, because he was turning towards Jack and moving closer and needing.

 

"Ennis?" Jack let go of his arm, slowly, and cupped Ennis's face, his hand so warm and big and holding him. "Okay?"

 

Ennis nodded in Jack's hand. He didn't know what Jack was asking, but whatever it was, it was okay. Then Jack's hand tightened on the back of his head and Jack was looking into his eyes and getting closer and then Jack kissed him, close mouthed, his beautiful mouth so soft. A groan rose up from deep inside Ennis and he opened his mouth to let it out and to let Jack in, and suddenly his mouth was full of Jack's tongue, and he thought maybe he'd melted right into the bed, or set it on fire, and he didn't know what to do, it felt so good, so he just kept his mouth open and his tongue busy and kissing Karen had never, ever, been like this. He was losing control, and he just let it go and leaned into Jack, leaned into his mouth and never wanted this kiss to end and it didn't. The kiss went on and on, tongues tangling, and when Jack moved his head, Ennis felt his stubble against his own face and the feeling shot right down to his dick, and he rubbed his face against Jack's. A small, whimpery noise came out of Ennis's mouth as he tried to find Jack's mouth again. It was right there, where it belonged, against his mouth, and Jack's magic tongue was in his mouth again. He pulled away to gasp,

 

"What are you doing to me?"

 

He'd never known, never felt like this, dissolving into Jack, hot and liquid and helpless. He put his hand on Jack's hip, needing to hold onto something, to Jack, and Jack made a noise deep in his throat and moved closer, his tongue still filling Ennis's mouth, and Ennis tried to open wider, and then, oh god, he felt Jack against him. Jack's hard dick. He pulled Jack closer, hard, needing to feel Jack. He pushed his own dick into Jack, wanting him to know, wanting him to do something about it. Jack broke the kiss, leaving Ennis's mouth empty and wanting, and buried his face in Ennis's neck, growling into it and putting his hand on Ennis's ass to pull him in. Jack sounded like Ennis felt, desperate, wanting, and hearing it made Ennis feel it even more, and he buried his face in Jack's hair and let out the noise inside him, and then Jack grabbed him even tighter and it was like Ennis had blacked out and like there were starbursts, too, and he came so hard he thought maybe he'd died.


End file.
